


Building a Bridge

by blueswan



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 10:50:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1776436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueswan/pseuds/blueswan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Proof Positive<br/>Originally posted February 2005.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Building a Bridge

"Wes? You want to tell me anything? Angel asked, arms folded, with a smirk plastered on his face.

There was nothing less Wes wanted at that moment than to be found out like this. And yet, and yet…Choices gone, time to face the music. Stand up and be a man. Of course, this man had his pants around his ankles, his cock limp and used up, the evidence in the air and on his clothes.

Wes closed his eyes.

"My office," and Angel was gone when he looked up again. When Spike was corporeal, Wes was going to introduce him to some of the Council's more inventive techniques for dealing with vampires.

Feeling numb, he dressed and slowly moved his feet toward Angel's office. God, he did not want to talk about this. (He was rather amazed that Spike could concentrate enough to do what he had done. Nothing he'd read about Spike, and nothing he'd heard from Angel would have allowed him to foresee this.) He needed to get Spike into the lab and see exactly what the notghost version of Spike could accomplish. Not that he could expect any cooperation from Spike. Well, he'd cross that bridge later. Right now he was crossing the gulf of foyer and almost at the door to Angel's office. He paused when he noticed the office windows facing the foyer had been made opaque.

When he entered the first thing he saw, as always was Angel's desk. It was bare - just the blotter and a single sterling silver pen glinting in the muted lights that shone down on the desktop. He stopped in his tracks and thought very hard about breathing and keeping his pulse rate from rising.

"Wes?"

Wes turned toward Angel, whose voice carried amusement, and yet the look in his eyes was not amused. The smile was almost forced, and his eyes were flat, blank and old. Still and empty - Angelus! - his mind shrieked before he forced that thought down. He'd seen Angel do this before and always when he was stressed and often when he was angry.

"Angel?" Wes thought he'd better let Angel lead the way.

"You want to tell me anything, Wes?"

'Not bloody likely!' he thought but replied with a simple 'no'.

"So what was that? Pretty sure I heard my name more than once."

"Spike. That was Spike."

"Oh yeah, heard who was saying it, watched who was hearing it. Had no idea you get off on me saying your name."

"Don't. It was a thing - a game. Uh, role-playing."

"Uh huh. You play many games, Wesley? Because frankly I had no idea; it's…almost flattering." Angel moved toward Wes. "So, if I were to say tie you up, is that a game you'd like to play, Wesley?"

The emphasis on his name didn't mean anything - didn't do a damn thing for him - Wes told himself. Angel's just annoyed because Spike got his incorporeal hands on someone Angel considered his.

"If that's all Angel, I'd like to get on home. It's been a long day. I'm tired." Wes turned away, and got to the door only to face Angel once again.

"Nuh uh, Wesley. I want to talk. We're talking." And he stepped steadily forward forcing Wes to step backward, herded him to the desk.

Wes swallowed when he backed into it, couldn't help but look down.

"Desks particularly fascinating or just this one, Wesley?"

"Angel, don't. Please." He had no more words. Wes wasn't even sure what he was asking, but he had to get that look off Angel's face - that look that was just too assured, too smug, too sure of Wes. He wasn't that certain what he was thinking earlier, and less sure of what he wanted from Angel. But he knew it isn't this. Not Angel acting to take back what was his, reclaiming it from another.

God, he needed to stop this. He hadn't even had a chance to think about what had happened with Spike - how to justify it, explain it to himself. In his mind he heard Spike again, and cringed. He hadn't done a damn thing to stop it, not a step back, not a word of protest. Did Spike have the right of it?

Angel's hand was on his shoulder. "Wes, you can touch me."

'What?' Dumbstruck; he knew he hadn't spoken aloud.

"You can touch me. I'm here. I'm real. If you want." And his traitorous hand is touching Angel's hair, stroking down his check, and stopping to cup around his jaw.

Yeah," Angel breathes. He doesn't take his eyes off Wes'. He's building a bridge, swaying lightly, but there between them. All Wes has to do is step onto it. Walk out and meet Angel there in the middle.

All he has to do is step up.


End file.
